


South to the Coast

by Windturtle



Series: Non-Linear Universe [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble, Flying, M/M, short-fic, they're trying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 23:38:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15035822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Windturtle/pseuds/Windturtle
Summary: Harry finally comes over to invite Draco to go flying.





	South to the Coast

It was eleven in the morning, the hour when Draco expected to start getting done most of what he’d planned for the day. He sat in his study, looking over his pile of books, trying to decide where he wanted to start, when his house elf appeared.

“Pardons, Master Draco, you have a visitor,” she said, tugging on her emerald napkin.

Draco frowned as he checked the clock. It was a very odd time for someone to arrive at the Manor, unless his father was having someone for lunch, in which case they were very early. But if that were the case, Tittles wouldn’t have come to tell him.

“Thank you, Tittles,” Draco said and stood up. The house elf vanished as he started down the stairs. He ran through the possibilities and decided it was probably someone from the Ministry. 

The war was over, he had his pardon, in part due to his stunning turn on the Dark Lord and in part thanks to Potter. The Ministry kept coming, though, to speak to Draco’s mother or his father, and sometimes to him. They wanted to talk about one thing or another that had happened during the war or have another look through the Manor. It was exhausting. His father was in no condition to speak to them, so that left Draco and his mother to shoulder the burden. 

He took a deep breath as he approached the doors to the front room.

It was a shock not to see the bright red of an auror uniform, nor the dusty browns and vibrantly hideous purples that usually marked a Ministry employee. It was Potter, standing in front of the mantle, staring up at the portrait. 

Draco hadn’t seen Potter since his trial and had figured their friendship and slight flirtation had ended with the war. Weasley hadn’t been happy about their relationship and had threatened Draco more than once on the long hunt. Draco didn’t like the Weasel, but he was Potter’s best friend, and he knew if he rose to the Weasel’s constant challenges he would be the one to take the blame for the altercation. 

No doubt both Granger and Weasley had been relieved when their time together ended. Draco had missed Potter though, no matter how much he wanted to deny it. He didn’t know if he wanted to be elated or upset at the sight of Potter in his front room. 

“Potter,” he said and Harry turned to him. He’d been studying the portrait over the mantle. It was of an ancestor so old he hardly spoke anymore, which was why he was in the front room in the first place. He rarely insulted guests, and since the war had ended he hadn’t managed much more than a sigh.

Potter smiled at Draco, awkward and apologetic. He was still wearing the gold-rimmed glasses that Draco had given him. Those glasses, their wands, the waistcoats, all reminders that those things had actually happened. It was hard to remember that when some days it all felt like it had been a very strange dream. 

“Hi, Malfoy.” Instead of his auror uniform, Potter was wearing muggle pants, shirt, and a light jacket.

“What are you doing here?” Draco asked, instead of returning the greeting, as he stepped the rest of the way into the room. Potter was still holding his broom; had he flown out here from London? No wonder he’d arrived at such an odd hour. It was good to see him, and hard to stay aloof or even at a safe distance, and Draco’s feet took him closer than he meant before he stopped. 

Potter shrugged. “I dunno, I was thinking about all that time we spent, you know, sideways or whatever. Do you remember that time we were in Hogsmeade?”

“Which time was that? We went there several times. The time those wizards attacked us?” He took another forward before he could stop himself. They were face to face now and he could see the pollen dust still clinging to Harry’s broad shoulders.

“No, no,” Potter rubbed the back of his head. “Maybe it’s just me that remembers it. We talked about going flying?”

Draco did remember that, vaguely. “Yes, you mentioned we should fly up to the coast, I think.” They’d never managed to take that flight; they’d ended up on the teachers’ Quidditch team, and Draco had ended up covered in Fiendfyre. The thought crashed over him like cold water and he shook it away quickly, not wanting to ruin Potter’s visit.

Potter smiled. Draco had a hard time denying that smile was lovely, which helped to banish the unpleasant memories. “Yeah, you want to go flying?” Potter hefted his broom.

Draco’s heart trembled with hope. “We’re not right back to hexing each other then?” Draco asked, tilting his head a little as he folded his hands so he didn’t start plucking nervously at his shirt.

Potter shrugged. “Nah. You want to shake on it again?” He shifted his weight as he glanced around the room, restless.

“No, that’s fine,” Draco said, and the next words came out before he could even think about them, let alone try and stop them. “I would love to go flying.” 

It felt good to say them too, as if something hidden could quietly unfurl and finally see the sun again. His stomach unclenched.

Harry gave him such a bright smile that Draco smiled too and relaxed further. “Great.” Harry started towards him. Draco moved aside to let him pass back out into the main hall and went to retrieve his broom and his cloak. 

“Draco?” his mother called from the top of the stairs as he set his hand on the front door. She was looking down at them, one pale hand on the railing. She glanced at Potter and then back to him.

“I’m going flying, mother,” Draco said as he opened the door. He couldn’t see her expression clearly from this distance, but he saw her head turn as she regarded the both of them.

“It’s been some time since you’ve done that.” She stood still for a moment, still watching. Draco knew that she’d assumed it was someone from the Ministry and had probably wondered why they’d asked for him and not Lucius. 

“Potter has just come to invite me to fly to the coast with him,” Draco said. He preferred to let his mother know where he was going so she wouldn’t worry, though no doubt she would think this strange.

She studied them both for a long moment, as if trying to decide what Draco might be planning or if he’d finally lost his mind. “Have a good time,” she said eventually, sounding just slightly confused about it. She turned and went back up the hallway.

Draco and Harry paused on the front path to mount their brooms.

“Do you know the way to the coast from here?” Harry asked as he took to the air.

“South,” Draco smirked as he flew up.

Harry laughed as they hovered side by side for a moment. “I figured south.”

“Due south is the best way, mostly countryside, less chance of being seen,” Draco said. “Just follow me.” He flew higher, his own cloak flapping in the wind. Harry was right behind him. 

Flying with someone wasn’t an activity that allowed for talking. Potter flew just next to him, a little bit back, to watch in case Draco turned. 

It had been a long time since Draco had made this flight. When he was a child, as soon as he’d been able, he’d done it most days in the summer. It was about a two-hour flight, so he would leave in the morning just after breakfast, sometimes taking food and sometimes walking to the only wizard cafe nearby to eat lunch, and then fly home again near sunset.

They flew in silence until Draco started to dip down and they flew out over the ocean. The water was bright, sun glittering off the flashing waves like they were full of crystals. Draco flew until the land faded behind them and then paused and flew lower. There was nothing around out here. Just the wind and peace. He took a deep breath, pulling with it the memory of a dozen summer days when he was a child.

Harry flew down with him, hovering over the water. “You’re right, just flying is great.”

“I’m always right,” Draco said, since the time travel flu joke could no longer be applied.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Want to race?”

That sounded like something friends would do, and Draco liked the sound of it. “That might be pleasant. From here to that island.” He pointed to a distant black dot. He’d found it when he was a child and spent plenty of summer afternoons sitting there, scaring off the seagulls and casting spells on the fish.

Harry nodded and flew to hover next to him. Draco thought he was going to start the race but Harry just looked at him for a long moment. Draco stared back, thinking far too much about how beautiful Harry’s eyes were and how well he’d grown into his body. 

Harry shook himself after a second. “Uh.” He blinked and flushed as if caught at something, and Draco found himself wondering what he’d been thinking about. “There you go, agreeing with me again. Still sick with the Time Travel Flu?” Harry said quickly.

Draco smiled softly, unable to put an edge on it no matter how hard he tried. “We’ve outlasted everyone’s expectations.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed and settled next to him, putting his feet back into the stirrups of the broom. He leaned down. “Ready?”

Draco readied himself. He was tempted to start off early but didn’t. He would beat Harry fairly at this race, show him who was the better flyer without even cheating. “Set,” he said.

“Go,” they said together.

They flashed over the water, the force of the magic and their wind churning the waves as they soared towards the island. Draco couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out as he pushed his broom faster. It was just wind and the distant speck of the island coming closer, it was everything for a moment, and Harry was laughing beside him as they flew.


End file.
